The Fifth Wheel
by Alverrann
Summary: I love the A-Team- every single one of them. Like most fans however, I avoided season 5. Not just because it was the end, but because I didn't like Frankie. I didn't feel like knowing another character, and partly blamed him for the end. Then I watched the last season and fell in love with him. I dare all true fans to like him. That's why I wrote this. #givefrankieachance
1. Prologue

**I'd like to dare anyone reading this to give Frankie the benefit of the doubt. I don't think he's such a bad guy, and in fact, is pretty fun to write with. He's fun and funny! A lot of fans complain that he's just like a mix of Murdock and Face. He kind of is, isn't he? ... But, don't we like Murdock and Face? We wouldn't like it if it were a mix of Dolores Umbridge and Jar Jar Binks ... this is much better in comparison, wouldn't you say?**

 **I don't own these characters, but I will defend them to the end. Even the villains. :) I think I'm over-devoted.**

 **Anyway-I dare you to like Frankie. Seriously, give him a chance, he's great.**

 **Post reviews if you'd like to see more, and I'll try to get it up in a timely manner, I promise (not that that's worth all _that_ much). :) ... Also just post reviews. I like those. They make me feel noticed. ;)**

* * *

It wasn't Frankie's fault (not that it ever was). He hadn't meant to get kidnapped-these sorts of things just happened! They just _seemed_ to happen more often since Stockwell had blackmailed him into becoming a member of the A-Team (not that it had happened all that often before …).

So, due to a strange visit to the local grocery store, and what must have been an accidental mugging; Frankie was now waking up with a sore head, a blindfold, and tightly tied hands.

It was a thick blindfold too, since no light was filtering through, and yet he could feel that he was outside. Of course, it could have been nighttime, but that was impossible. It had been 8:00 am when he'd been clocked, and there was no way it had been that hard.

As his ears began to hear again, he immediately recognized the sound of leaves rustling and … crickets chirping? Okay. So maybe it _had_ been that hard.

His cheek was pressed up against dirt and felt sticky and wet. He'd chalked it up as sweat earlier, but now …, now he could feel the steady throb of his heartbeat in his left temple; the throb that spoke of excessive force.

'Oh man.' He thought, trying to sit up, 'I better not have blood on my shirt, or someone owes me a new one.'

Problem was, he couldn't tell.

Sitting up turned out to be something his head wasn't okay with, but he only found that out when he hit the dirt once again. He stifled a moan. Surely by now the guys had noticed. Hannibal had to have noticed!

"You're awake." An awfully low voice oozed from the darkness to his … left?

"I am?" He replied while his mind raced to attach the voice to any face that he knew (no, not that Face!). Nothing came up as the voice chuckled. Evilly. (Frankie would recognize evil chuckles by now. Murdock was actually fairly adept at them.)

"Unfortunately for you, yes." The laugh somehow managed to continue living through the sentence, making the unknown man sound very amused. Frankie hoped he didn't look that funny, and was suddenly a little peeved. That guy was laughing at him!

"Okay, yeah-funny, funny." He went to sit up again, and the tension in his chest made his next words unintentionally breathy, "Whaddaya want?"

"The A-Team." Frankie fell back again. Maybe the mugging hadn't been a case of mistaken identity after all.

"The who-now?" Playing dumb wasn't something the A-Team had taught him.

"You know exactly who I'm talking about. You've been seen with them, and I in fact know that you're a member of their team."

"No one told me." Frankie had stopped trying to get up.

"I have footage." Came the calm reply, again, a slight laugh in the voice. It only took Frankie a moment to come up with his reply. He began laughing too,

"Man, someone is messin' wid your head. I have no idea what you're talkin' about!"

"I _will_ let you go." The man spoke, then waited. Frankie was a master at this little tête-à-tête , and waited as well, for the 'but' that he knew was right behind that statement.

There was a beat of awkward silence, and then Frankie decided to prompt the guy. Even masters couldn't wait forever, "And?"

"First you must tell me the whereabouts of the A-Team." The response was immediate and serious, the laughing having stopped. Not for Frankie though. He busted up laughing again (which he quickly regretted),

"Look man, I don't know who you're talkin' about!"

"That's your final answer?"

"That's my only answer, man." Frankie hoped that he sounded more confident than he felt.

"You'll talk." Came the reply, and footsteps moved towards him, "And you'll wish you'd talked now."

"Look, I don't-" Frankie began, but was cut off by a hard kick to his already sore head.

Well. At least now he knew what it felt like to explode.


	2. Chapter 1

**Okay, so I'm glad that people liked this story. I honestly thought that no one wanted to give Frankie the chance that he rightfully deserves as a character.**

 **Fans blame him for the end, when really, he and Stockwell were the ones that prolonged it. For that, I think we ought to at least begrudgingly thank them for their efforts.**

 **Every character deserves respect. #givefrankieachance**

 **I will continue writing, and I'd love more reviews. If you want to see more, review. If you have a question, review. If you (insert), review! Also If you see continuity errors, I'd love to know about them, thanks. :) ;)**

* * *

"Aw man! We're outta milk?!" BA's voice filled the whole house as he turned his angry eyebrows on his fellow teammates, "Who drank all t'milk?"

"Hannibal." Came Face's absent reply as he continued flipping through his magazine. The wrath immediately focused on its target. The snowy-haired man in question was watching TV, ignoring the threat. BA blocked the screen.

"Now, BA, would ya mind?" Hannibal looked up with reluctant exasperation.

"Did you drink my milk?" BA wasn't budging. Hannibal met his look with a questioning patient one.

"Does it really matter who had the last swallow of the milk you drank the rest of? Besides; Frankie went for more this morning."

"When?" BA didn't own up to anything, glancing at the clock as Hannibal answered,

"7:30?"

"It's 11:00 pm, Hannibal. Where is he?"

"Ah-it's a free week, BA. Can't Frankie do what he wants for a day?" Face spoke up then, attempting to placate the furious sergeant, "He's probably just hanging out with Murdock or something."

"Murdock?!" BA pulled his head back, his voice cracking with disbelief.

"BA, would ya calm down and let me watch?" Hannibal had been shifting in his seat, attempting to see around BA, but finally spoke up exasperatedly.

"Just call Murdock," Face tried again, "I'm sure that's where Frankie is."

"Fine. I will." BA was trying to make them react, but Face was once again reading, and Hannibal involved with his TV show. ... Well. He'd just have to show 'em. Murdock still reacted.

The call was easy enough to make, and Murdock answered almost immediately, "Hi, this is Murdock, Howlin' Mad; ... whose callin'?"

"'s me foo'." BA had no time for Murdock's games, so he cut to the chase, "You seen Frankie?"

"Yes, I have." Came the prompt reply.

"Where's he at?" BA was ready to give Santana an earful, but Murdock's next words kicked that plan aside.

"Oh, you meant today?"

"What's that supposed to mean?!" BA was easily frustrated, and Murdock never helped.

"I've seen him before, but the last time I _saw_ him was yesterday." Murdock explained patiently, his voice settling into its usual low smooth tone.

"You mean you ain't seen 'im today?" BA clarified, seeing as the pilot had a tendency to talk in circles.

"No, I haven't." Murdock sounded amused, which immediately made BA angrier, "Should I have?"

"Hannibal drank my milk, and Frankie went this morning to get more." BA elaborated, his voice taut with annoyance.

"And he- he didn't come back?" Now it was Murdock's turn to clarify. Details had never been BA's cup of tea. ... milk.

"No. Face an' Hannibal aren't worried though. They figured he was witchou."

There was a pause, then Murdock repeated, "Well, he's not. But I-"

"Go find 'im and send 'im back here wit the milk." BA growled, and then hung up as violently as he could without ruining the phone. He tromped back to the living room, and saw that, to his annoyance, Face and Hannibal hadn't moved a muscle.

"He was with Murdock, right?" Face spoke up rather smugly. BA just scowled and left, annoyed.

* * *

BA's call had interrupted Murdock's self-burned dinner and had intrigued the pilot enough that he soon found himself on his way to the grocery store.

He arrived at 11:30, glad to see that it was still open, only to watch the employee flip the 'OPEN' sign over, declaring his search for Frankie; over. There was no way the employee had seen Frankie, since no one worked a shift that long. So Murdock watched a little disappointedly as the man drove off.

It was pretty dark now, and BA's welcome distraction to his otherwise boring day had turned out boring too. Frankie was probably just having a night on the town, and was getting home late. Still, since he was here, he wanted to make sure.

Murdock quickly made his way around the building. So far, he'd seen nothing suspicious at all. He'd almost made a full circle around the building when he found it, or more accurately, stepped in it.

A puddle, barely even within the definition of the word though, since it was almost just a damper spot of asphalt.

It hadn't rained at all, and so after a moment of indecision, he bent over and studied it. It was too dark to really see what it was though, so against most people's better judgment, he tasted it.

It was milk. Spilled milk. But that wasn't what had Murdock running to the nearest garbage can. It was the unmistakable metallic taste of blood that was mixed in with it.

It only took him a few moments to find the broken jugs of milk and he hurriedly pulled them out. Two leaky, empty jugs of milk, both splotched with something dry and brown. It didn't take a Vet from Nam to see that it was blood, and Murdock quickly ran to the pay-phone at the front. He had a bad feeling right in the pit of his stomach, but had to make certain.

"Hello?" Face's distracted voice came on the other end, and Murdock had to consciously slow down his breathing before answering.

"Face, is Frankie there?"

"He's not with you?" Face sounded genuinely confused, and Murdock felt himself on the verge of panic.

"I- I haven't seen 'im all day, an' the big guy told me that you- ... you hadn't seen 'im since this morning."

"Murdock," Face no longer sounded confused, but worried, "is there something wrong?"

"Do you know where Frankie is?" Murdock demanded, wishing Face would start worrying about the right person.

"Eh- he's probably fine, Murdock." Face soothed, "He's ... ah ... probably just out on the town or something!"

"If he's out on a date, then how do you explain the spilled milk and the blood on the ground out here?" Murdock's urgency had truly entered his voice, making all of his consonants more pronounced.

"Ah ... What?" Face replied after a moment, and then the line went dead.

* * *

Frankie once again awoke to restraints, a blindfold, and a headache. This time though, his was up against a wall. He could feel it. His arms were tied out to his sides, and he as basically hanging from them.

He could also feel that he was no longer outside. A musty smell surrounded him instead of a fresh one, and he decided he was in some sort of shed.

The earlier wetness of his cheek was gone, leaving a dry crusty feeling instead, and now it felt like the still-too-tight blindfold was stuck to his face. His head was still pounding relentlessly, specifically his left temple, and the fact that it had been hanging for the past while didn't help at all.

Frankie wasn't sure how long he'd hung there, and he wasn't sure how long he'd been out, but he was sure that the guys would come get him ... wouldn't they?

He was new on the team, sure, and Hannibal was the one who put the most trust in him. Hannibal was the only reason that he didn't feel completely left out, actually. The rest of the team couldn't seem to get over his early betrayal. Even after he'd explained that he'd had no choice, Hannibal was the only one who treated him pretty much the same. ... Well, ... BA sort of did too, but he'd never struck Frankie as an overly friendly guy in the first place. Now he was just _more_ hostile.

Face ... well, with him, it _seemed_ as though he treated Frankie the same, ... but it was like there were little shifts. Little faces that Frankie would see out of the corner of his eyes, lip twitches that made him wonder if Face truly trusted anyone. His name was ironic. You could never quite take anything he said at face value.

Murdock had seemed to get over it. Seemed to. ... Problem was, Frankie couldn't tell. He could usually kinda read people; but Murdock?

No. Hannibal was the only one who _really_ trusted him. Hopefully.

Frankie was pulled back out of his thoughts when a faraway door opened and closed with a loud echoing slam. He heard footsteps coming towards him, and began to think that perhaps his holding shed was bigger than a shed. In fact; if the echoes were anything to go off of, he was in a garage, which would explain the musty smell. The footsteps were also strange, as the echoes made it sound like more than one person.

The footsteps stopped in front of him, and after the echoes died off, silence reigned for an awkward moment. Frankie waited for them to speak, but nothing happened, so he broke the silence, "Hey. So, I don't wanna be disrespectful or nothin', but wouldja mind lettin' me go?"

"You _are_ awake." That awful oozy voice from earlier spoke, "Maybe you will talk now?"

"Oh, I'll talk." Frankie replied, nodding as much as he was able to, "But you might not like it, cuz it's the same answer as before. Might as well just record it and let me go."

"The A-Team!" A different voice spoke, and Frankie did a mental double take- there _had_ been two sets of footsteps! "Tell us where the A-Team is!" The new voice was nasally and high-a stark contrast when compared with the first one.

"I already told you." Frankie sighed, wishing that the guys would just show up already. "I don't know what you're talkin' about."

"We know you're lying." Replied the smooth voice.

"Really? Then why didn't you guys just follow me back to the A-Team, since I work with them and everything?" Frankie spoke sarcastically, finding it difficult to keep an upbeat and positive attitude. He knew the team would come, and he wasn't dying, but he still found himself doubtful. What if they didn't? The nasally voice put a stop to that train of thought,

"We wanted a bargaining chip. A way to stop them from trying to stop us. You were the easiest one to get, and they won't want you dead."

"They don't even know me!" Frankie tried again, but playing the 'know-nothing' card was becoming more and more difficult the longer he was here.

"It would be much simpler if you would just talk." Oozy spoke again, "Tell us where they are."

"Can't you find 'em?" Frankie tried a new tactic.

"We have seen them separately." The voice conceded, "But we deemed it unwise to make a move on them, as, even separately, they have a reputation for defeating foes. You are new to them though, so you weren't as big of a threat."

"Wow, yeah, okay." Frankie was more than slightly offended, but was determined not to show it, "So these guys are really bad, and I wish you the best of luck in finding them, ... but can you let me go? I haven't done nothin' wrong. I'm just a special effects man. That's all."

"You are part of the A-Team!" Nasally spoke again, 'Just admit it and tell us where they are!"

"Why didn't you follow _them_?!" Frankie was really getting annoyed with this dance.

"They always knew, and shook us." Nasally spoke again after a beat of silence that Frankie now realized was shame. He couldn't help it. He laughed. And who wouldn't, when confronted with the image of someone trying very obviously to follow one of the A-Team home? Especially when home was Stockwell's place?!

"What is so funny?!" Nasally wasn't as calm as Oozy, who had stayed silent through all of this, and that made Frankie laugh even harder,

"So; because you couldn't find this A-Team, you grabbed a random guy just so you could actually catch somebody? Look, just lemme go-I haven't seen your faces, so I can't exactly call the cops on ya-and I'm willin' ta forget the whole thing." Frankie hoped that they were finally convinced he wasn't who they wanted, but couldn't tell, since they were silent. Finally he heard steps coming towards him, and dared to hope that his offer had worked ... only to have the blindfold pulled off, blinding his vision with dim light that stabbed mercilessly into his throbbing head.

"Uhnnn ..." He let loose and involuntary groan as the blurry shape that was his captor stepped back.

"Now you _can_ see us." Oozy came into focus slowly, proving to be a tall, thin man with a face of stone.

"Tell us where the A-Team is." Nasally spoke up from behind, turning out to be a shorter, ferret-like overweight man with thinning brown hair. Both of their voices poked at Frankie's migraine, provoking it into becoming a true monster.

"I don't know where they are." He scowled at them, trying to look intimidating, but found it difficult when he continued to blink involuntarily. He was also a little annoyed that he'd been wrong about the garage-he was in a warehouse. A very big warehouse.

Oozy moved forward, his voice dangerous and low, "We know you do, or at least have a good idea-so you'd better talk _now_."

"And if I don't?" Frankie was sore, tired, and having a hard time remembering that his friends were on the way. Naturally, that made him irritable enough that he dropped the charade for moment. Just long enough to give his best BA impression, with a low growl and bared teeth.

"Then your existence could quickly become ..." Oozy smiled, revealing perfect slimy teeth, "unpleasant."

"I honestly don't know what you're talkin' about." Frankie sighed, slipping back into his safe act. At this point, he was almost convinced of the lie himself, and in his case, that might save his life.

"Then we begin." Replied Oozy, a knife flicking into his hand.

Stockwell **_had_** to know!


	3. Chapter 2

**Here's Chapter Two! I'm happy I got it up so soon, because I honestly didn't expect it to happen. The other chapters will probably come slowly after this, but ... at least you have this one. :)**

 **I gotta say. I love dialogue. I don't think stories would happen without it. ... Specifically _my_ stories. Anyway. I hope that you enjoy this chapter. I know I enjoyed writing it. Though I don't think the team is enjoying it. ... **

**Review if you have comments or anything, and I'd like to announce my dare again. I dare anyone reading this to like Frankie. I'm speaking to all of those open-minded fans. #givefrankieachance**

* * *

It had been a slow day until BA had begun complaining about milk, and after Murdock's call, the A-Team arrived at the store in record time. "There's Frankie's car." Face pointed out the old model as they drove into the parking lot. Hannibal remained silent, but BA grunted,

"An' that crazy foo' is up on t'other end of the store."

"Hnn- yeah." Face hummed his agreement, "That must be where he found the blood."

"Who would kidnap Frankie?" BA growled it as though he was angry at their newest member, but his two companions knew better.

"He might not even be kidnapped," Face kept saying that, but sounded unconvincing even to himself. "He might just be out doing something on his own." They pulled up to the front of the store, and stopped the van, getting out to meet Murdock.

"You found blood, Captain?" Hannibal was all business and Murdock was also uncharacteristically serious

"Yeah, right over here." Murdock then proceeded to show them what he had found. Hannibal tasted it, and then nodded, confirming what had previously had the possibility of being one of Murdock's hallucinations.

"Yeahp. That's blood." Hannibal stood up again, puffing thoughtfully on his cigar.

"Yeah, but who'd wanna kidnap Frankie?!" BA repeated, causing Face to sigh, and Murdock to look at Hannibal, who replied,

"Someone who knew he was one of us."

"Ah- c'mon Hannibal," Face turned to look at the Colonel, taking his eyes off of the spilled milk, "we've all been here! Why didn't they take one of us? Why didn't they follow him home? -Why didn't they follow _us_ home?! Huh? It doesn't add up! BA's got a point, if you want a member of the A-Team, why take Frankie?!"

"Frankie's part of the A-Team!" Murdock was suddenly right up in Face's face, but Hannibal spoke, putting a stop to the argument that Face hadn't even meant to start.

"Frankie's the new guy on the team. The rest of us have reputations for winning. They probably took him to get to us." Hannibal then speared Face with a hard look, "They must have known that we never leave a teammate behind." Murdock's look was positively smug, and then BA said,

"So le's go get 'im."

They all started walking to the back of the store, and Face began protesting, only just realizing what had happened, "I never said he wasn't a part of the team!"

No answer.

"Oh, c'mon guys! That isn't what I meant at all!"

BA gave him a glare while Murdock continued to studiously ignore him.

"All I meant was-"

"Face, do you mind?" Hannibal interrupted him, nodding towards the locked 'EMPLOYEE'S ENTRANCE'.

"Ah- yeah." Face began picking the lock as he continued, "I never meant to imply that Frankie wasn't a member of the team. All I meant was-" he paused for a moment, testing the door before going on, "If you're going to capture a member of the A-Team, it would usually be one of us. I was just, ah, confused by that." He kept taking his hand off of the doorknob to wave it, emphasizing his point, "I mean, of course Frankie's a member of the team!" He paused to gesture to himself and then them successively, "I know that! We all know that! It's just- they shouldn't know that- eh, the guys that took him. They shouldn't know about Frankie, ah, at least ... most of them shouldn't."

Face opened the door and Hannibal walked in, the rest of them following, but Face wasn't done, "Stockwell only recruited us four months ago. Some people still think we're dead- so how could they know about Frankie already?! Especially well enough to grab 'im? Ah- I just- eh-"

"You're right, Face." Hannibal cut him off as they reached another locked door, this one protecting a small office for employees, "They shouldn't know. But they do, and since they do-" He gestured toward the door, and Face started on it, "It's a cinch they know about us, or at least well enough to know where we're at and where we shop."

"Speak for yourself." Face muttered, but Hannibal continued,

"So it's also a cinch that they've been hanging around here for a while." The Colonel once again led the way in as Face held the door open, "So let's find out who works here, starting with whoever was on shift at 8:00 this morning."

"Hannibal, they might not even have been involved." Face pointed out.

"Face," Hannibal turned, putting a hand on his shoulder with a very patient look, "Have a little faith. Someone is sure to have seen something."

"Or done somethin'." BA spoke up, his gaze murderous as he started replaying the security feeds.

"Found it." Murdock pulled away from the filing cabinets, a folder in his hand. He gave it to Hannibal, who immediately gave it to Face, his eyes focused on the security feed from earlier that day. BA fast forwarded to 8:00 am, and then let it paly.

"There he is." Murdock pointed, and they all watched as Frankie sauntered into the store. Face looked up from the folder, and they all watched Frankie begin shopping. He hadn't even gotten to the dairy isle before Murdock spoke again, "That guy is followin' him."

"Yeah, and he's not the only one." Face leaned in, pointing to some of the other screens, showing several other shady looking people, all of them watching Frankie.

"Hannibal, they have guns." BA growled.

"Yeah, looks like they were scared of 'im." Murdock said it with a grim smile, the unspoken message traveling through all of them.

Frankie could be dead.

"I'm scared of his advice." Face tried to lighten the mood, but only succeeded in getting half-hearted smiles from both Murdock and himself.

"They _all_ gonna be scared of me." BA grunted.

 _That_ made Hannibal smile.

"Yeah. Jumpin' a guy who's just tryin' ta buy milk- that's low." Murdock agreed, his voice soft and angry.

"Oh, but look guys." Hannibal pointed to Frankie. He was looking at the milk, but on closer inspection, he was looking at the reflections of the other men in the glass.

"He expected it." Face stated.

"That's still six against one, Hannibal." BA looked about ready to throw every one of those men through a window.

"Not even a Nighthawk Commando can take on that many without a helicopter." Murdock shook his head, "Frankie didn't have a chance."

"Helicopter?!" BA rounded on the pilot, "Whatchou talkin' 'bout, foo'?!"

"BA." Hannibal put a stop to that, pointing at the screen again, which now showed Frankie paying for the milk, smiling at the cashier, and then exiting the store. Those other men were right behind him, only one of them paying, while the others left. BA paused it after the man followed his friends out.

"Shaaron Fleming."

Everyone looked at Face, who held up the folder.

"She was the one on shift at 8:00? Hannibal asked.

"Ah-huh." Face nodded, proffering a wallet-sized picture of a plain young woman.

"But wouldn't it be easier to just find the guys who were there? This place probably keeps records of its customers." Murdock started looking again, but Hannibal stopped him with what he said next,

"Something tells me that, whether those guys were conspicuous or not, they have aliases. So our best bet is the girl."

"So where is she?!" BA's hands clenched into fists.

"Eh-" Face's eyes skimmed her file, and then he looked up, "Doesn't say."

"It doesn't say?" Hannibal grabbed the folder from Face, checking for himself.

"That's weird." Murdock commented, "Wouldn't they have her information here?"

"Not all of it, but ah- ... Murdock's right, Hannibal." Face confirmed, "They should at least have her address."

"Then where is it?" BA's fists turned white.

"Face can tell us." Hannibal handed the folder back to the con-man with a smile.

" _I_ can?" Face had a look of dread that was just reaching his eyes.

"Right after your visit to City Hall." Hannibal nodded, "Take Murdock with you."

"Right." Face gave a squinty smile that ended up looking more like a grimace, "I hesitate to ask ... what will you be doing?"

"BA and I are gonna find out more about the guy that took the girl's information, along with the rest of those scuzzballs. Meet us back here."

"How they gonna get there Hannibal?" BA's eyes glowed with danger, "Not in my van!"

"Now, BA-" Hannibal began, but Face stopped them both by holding up a key,

"I have Frankie's spare."

"And I happen to be a very good driver!" Murdock huffed. Hannibal just chuckled, watching both of them leave before turning back to BA.

"Okay, BA. Turn that camera back on, and we'll see who came into this office."

"Hannibal, do you think we should tell Stockwell?" BA asked the question everyone else had forgotten on purpose.

"Oh, I think he knows." Hannibal shrugged as the feed continued from where they'd left off.

"Yeah," BA sighed, "Man knows it all, but never helps out."

Hannibal let loose his first real laugh since Murdock's call.

* * *

Oozy sure knew how to use a knife. He'd only done one thing, but it had been enough to make Frankie want to give it all away right then. It was too bad that he couldn't.

Oozy and Nasally had finally left him alone, but only after they'd made a nice mess of him first. So now here he was; blood dripping from a nasty cut behind his right ear. If his head had been throbbing before, it was pounding now. (It had actually been pounding before. Now it felt like he was being walked on by a herd of elephants.)

Frankie had never really thought about his blood before, but when it was sliding down his neck, pooling in his clavicle and then dripping all over his shirt (they definitely owed him a new one) ... well. It was hard to think about anything else.

... Unless it was the rest of the team.

Where were they?! Half of him was consumed by that question, while the other half, the half that wouldn't let him spill his guts to Oozy (er, bad choice of words), loyally assured him that they were all on the way. He hoped that half turned out right. Especially since Oozy was back.

"Couldn't you have stayed away a little longer?" Frankie had begun to just avoid the subject of the A-Team entirely, avoiding their questions by asking his own. He figured if he acted confident enough, he'd get away. Hey- it worked for Hannibal (then again, Hannibal had a plan and stuff too).

"I can't afford to let you become comfortable enough to keep up your foolish act." Oozy replied evenly, "Where is the A-Team?"

"Why do you want these guys, anyway?" Frankie had found that it was much easier to stay confident when Face wasn't dying in the back room, and no one was about to kill him.

"That is none of your concern." Oozy snapped. Frankie had asked the question before, and it had set the guy off. It seemed to really push his buttons.

"Is it for revenge?" He ignored the brushoff.

"I said it was none of your concern!" Oozy stepped right up to Frankie's face, his knife suddenly in his hand. Okay ... so ... new line of questioning.

"All right, okay. So. Where's your pal?"

"Also none of your concern." Oozy seethed through his teeth.

"Then what am I doin' here?!" Frankie asked it genuinely, still avoiding the initial question, which came as a result.

"Where is the A-Team?!" Oozy's patience was at an end (not that he'd had all that much in the first place).

"I- ... I don't know." Frankie sighed.

"How long must we play this game?!" Oozy stepped back, his eyes squeezing shut tightly, as though he were in pain (which Frankie found slightly offensive).

"I honestly don't know!" Frankie said again, seeing Oozy ready the knife. At this point, it was true- the team could be anywhere right now- he really didn't know.

"I suggest you start knowing then." Oozy move forward again, brandishing the knife.

"I really don't!" Frankie tried again, but still flinched back as the hammer fell (figuratively). He had to bite his lip to keep from yelping, and his right hand reflexively closed as the large piece of skin between his thumb and forefinger was severed. Deeply.

"Did that help your memory?" Oozy took a step back after wiping the knife of on Frankie's sleeve. Yeah. He owed him a new shirt.

"This has nothing to do wid my memory." Frankie spoke quietly through his now bloody lip as his hand began dripping the stuff, "I honestly don't know."

"I hope you do soon." Oozy put away the knife and began to leave before calling back, "Soon you won't have anything else to lose."

Frankie sincerely hoped he was wrong.


	4. Chapter 3

**All right. Well. ... I'm back.**

 **Sorry it's been so long, but apparently, graduating High School is a big deal. Like, *shrugs* who knew?**

 **Anyway, this will probably be the only post from me in a while, because seriously, I've been busy!**

 **So, I'll reiterate my challenge again; please! Give Frankie some love! #GiveFrankieaChance How hard can it be to give a fictional character some room in your heart, huh?**

 **Also, even though you've probably all skipped this part and gone straight to the "good stuff", I want to thank my reviewers. Seriously, you guys are the only reason I'm still doing this! Am I the only author who depends on her reviewers to assure her that yes, her story is worth reading and yes, keep writing it?! You guys are my motivation. Thanks. :)**

 **And so, without further ado, here's what you've all been waiting for! (unless of course you weren't, in which case you may leave now if you've actually deigned to traverse this far into my realm ... man do I need sleep)**

* * *

"Ah-well, here we are!" Face said it with a cheerfulness that felt false even to him. Despite the outdated car that they had arrived in, he and Murdock had gotten to City Hall rather quickly.

Murdock had been unusually quiet the whole time, leaving Face to keep up conversation alone, since anything was better than that dead silence. Now, however, the pilot spoke up quite abruptly, "Hey Faceman?"

"Hmm?" Face focused on parking with the lights off just down the street, so they wouldn't be too obvious. Naturally, that's when Murdock sprang the question on him.

"Do you think Frankie's dead?"

It was so candid; yet felt like a dead-weight that Face hadn't been prepared to catch, and he immediately fumbled the loaded question, "Eh- Murdock-" his best reassuring smile was plastering itself onto his face as he attempted to come up with as ambiguous an answer as possible; not wanting to consider the possibility in the least. He never got the chance though, as Murdock cut him off,

"No one on our team has ever died before."

"Murdock." Face spoke more sternly now, realizing that an ambiguous answer wasn't going to cut it. He was going to have to muddle through with the most optimistic outlook he could muster, "He's probably not dead. You know Frankie; he's pretty persistent." It still wasn't an answer, and Murdock's eyes went a little wider as he continued to speculate, building off of what Face had meant as a reassurance.

"Yeah, but he's also the youngest and least experienced." Suddenly the pilot surged forward, gripping Face by the collar as he spoke forcefully, "We're a team, we're supposed to look out for each other––especially Frankie! But we didn't. We forgot about him. We weren't as careful!"

Face had been struggling to get Murdock's white-knuckled grip off of him the entire time, and now he shoved as forcefully as he could, "It's not like we asked for him!"

Murdock flew back against the other side of the car as though he'd been burned, his eyes wild and disbelieving. Face panted slightly, and then his brain caught up with what he'd shouted. Instantly, he began to backpedal, "Murdock, I didn't mean-"

"Yes you did." The pilot cut him off with a hard tone and a frosty glare, "Yes you did. You meant that. You've been mad at Frankie since your car crashed and you know it." Murdock's voice rose suddenly and his eyes lit up with anger, "His betrayal just added the icing to your cake of HATE!"

Face had to think about that for a moment, and if his friend hadn't been so serious, he might have laughed, as it was, he found that he was holding his breath even as Murdock continued to shout, "YOU KNOW WHAT?!" Then he suddenly went silent and leaned forward, jerking the con-man in by his tie to hiss, "You know what?"

There was a silence that was long enough to be awkward, but short enough to not be long enough and Face blinked in anticipation, not sure whether or not he ought to fill it. Then it ended,

"Frankie didn't ask for us either. He was blackmailed by Stockwell, and you know how Stockwell is. I was mad at him for that too, but then he made up for it." Murdock leaned back, only holding Face's tie loosely now as his eyes took on a glassy look, "I didn't want his help, but he helped me anyway. He became a Nighthawk Commando and helped me get you guys out. He hired your lawyer. He did everything he could, ... and now he could be dead, 'cause we didn't."

Face didn't wait for the silence this time, "All right!" He said it loudly, jolting Murdock out of his reverie, his guilt and annoyance boiling over, "I get it! I'm sorry I didn't jump up to go shopping with him! I'm sorry I didn't babysit him better!"

There was the silence again. Murdock's eyes pinned Face, as though he were thinking, and then he spoke softly, "You don't mean that."

"Yes I do!" Face still couldn't understand Murdock sometimes, "You just said I did!"

"That's not what I said." Murdock had gone wide-eyed and serious. The look he had when he really needed you to listen.

Face sighed.

"Okay Murdock. What did you say?"

"It's not what I said––it's what you meant." The Pilot leaned in, either not noticing Face's eye roll, or just choosing to ignore it, "I-I think we were all a little angry when Stockwell blackmailed Frankie. It's not that we didn't like 'im, but we didn't want to- to ruin his life. That's why we fought just now––you an' me––not 'cause we hate Frankie, but because we- we like 'im."

"Murdock, I-" Face could see the shining in Murdock's eyes. The open look that meant he was scared.

"Face. Frankie annoys all of us sometimes––even me. But ... He's like the little brother we never had. The A-Team doesn't ever leave a member behind, ... and we did. What- ... what if-" Murdock paused, swallowing, "What if we're too late? Frankie didn't leave me at the beginning––what if we left him at the end?"

"Murdock, we didn't leave him." Face had calmed down enough to see that the pilot was right. "We're going to find him right now."

"But what if we're to late?"

Oh. Here was a question Face couldn't dodge. Logically, they really might be too late. He smiled nonetheless, determined to live up to his name, keep up his good face, "We won't be."

Face was good at telling lies, but that was the hardest one yet, leaving a bad taste in his mouth. It worked though, because Murdock nodded after a long, searching stare.

"Let's go find Shaaron." He got out, leaving a confused Face who was still trying to swallow the old mood. The con-man quickly understood though, rolling his eyes as he got out.

"We don't even know if she knows anything." Face sighed as he met up with Murdock at the double glass doors.

"That's why we're gonna find out." Murdock spoke optimistically––his previous reservations merely a shadow as his faced lit with a hopeful smile, "I mean, she probably saw somethin'."

"Probably." Face agreed absentmindedly, looking carefully through the doors and then back at Murdock, "But we're going to have to short out the power before we can find out where she is."

"Alarm system?" Murdock leaned in, taking his own long, careful look before pulling back, "It looks battery powered, Faceman, I don't think shorting out the power will work."

"Great." Face folded his arms, "Can nothing be easy?!"

"Why not just trip the alarm? We can be outta here before anyone finds us." Murdock suggested.

"I'll be holding you to that, Murdock." Face said after mulling it over for a long moment, and then stopped the pilot when he went to go in with him, "Ah-" Face held out the keys, "Have the car ready."

"Ready Freddie!" Came the reply as Murdock bounced back down the front steps.

As soon as Face opened the door, however, a loud wailing sound heralded his entrance. He blanched,"Ahh, great." Apparently this security system didn't just notify the police, but the neighbors too. Face broke into a run, cursing Murdock under his breath as he entered the main office and began going through the files, "What'dya wanna bet Hannibal and BA are still sitting there!" He slammed the first drawer closed even as he tore open the second one.

"Hands up, pal." A hard voice spoke from behind him, a dangerous quality in it that Face recognized well enough to obediently raise his hands, "Don't even think about moving!"

"Ahh-" Face turned around slowly with a painful smile, "This isn't what it looks like."

"There's nothin' else it could be, so you're lyin'." A security guard that must have weighed at least as much as BA stood before him with a pistol.

"Eh- allow me to explain ..." Face forced himself to look as innocent as possible, thinking of some creative names for Hannibal till his smile widened into a genuine one.

* * *

"BA," Hannibal pointed at the screen, "replay that last part."

"Hannibal––" BA obediently rewound, but brought his thick brows together as he watched his Colonel's unreadable face, "We ain't seen nothin'. What'chyou lookin' fo'?"

"I'm watching the faces of those slimeballs," Hannibal's eyes narrowed as he answered, "We know which one came in here, and we know which one the leader is––but I wanna know why they're doin' it."

"'S 'cuz their foo's." BA growled. Hannibal was right. The leader was obvious, since all of the others kept looking at him, and the guy who had messed with Shaaron's file––they'd had to go back two or three days to get that, but had found it. Really, there was little more they could get from it, but Hannibal hadn't stopped.

"Naw. No I think––I think they're volunteers."

"Volunteers?!" BA was disbelieving, and paused the feed, forcing Hannibal to look at him.

"Yeah." Hannibal's cigar was a stub compared with an hour earlier, and he puffed on it thoughtfully, "You can tell when they're doin' it just for money, or because they have to––they're sloppier; make more mistakes. Now, these guys aren't experts, but they're doing it real careful, which makes 'em volunteers."

"What's that mean?" BA had an idea what it might mean, but hoped he was wrong.

"Well––" Hannibal sighed, taking his cigar out as he fixed BA with one of his most serious faces, "It means that whether or not Frankie knew it, he's got enemies. Probably our enemies. Ones that are out to get us."

"An' now they got him." BA clenched his fists. Hannibal just nodded, putting his cigar back in his mouth and puffing slowly. "Hannibal." BA's eyes widened to a point that they didn't often reach, opening his face up to the fear that now clouded it.

"Hmm?" Hannibal paid little attention until BA asked his question.

"What if Frankie's dead?"

"Now, BA-" Hannibal jumped in quickly.

Too quickly.

There was a soothing quality to his voice that spoke of lies and BA wasn't having it, "What if they killed 'im, Hannibal?"

There was a long, drawn out silence, and then the Colonel sighed, taking out his cigar stub once again as he looked right at BA, "Well, what do you think?"

BA didn't have to think, "Then we make 'em pay!"

Hannibal just nodded thoughtfully once more as he absently turned his cigar, leaving BA to contemplate the silence alone. The silence didn't last much longer though, as it was shattered quite suddenly when Murdock slammed the door open and pranced in with a damp folder and a smug look. "We got the info!" He seemed excited, contrasting greatly with Face, who trudged in right behind him, furious.

And soaking wet.

"Don't ask!"

"Why you all wet, man?!" BA exclaimed, ignoring the command.

"'Cause I tripped the fire alarm and helped us escape from City Hall." Murdock handed the folder to Hannibal, who grinned,

"Nice."

"I was the one driving too." The pilot added, tossing a glare in BA's direction, the earlier slight against his ability to drive unforgotten.

"Shut up, foo'!" BA pronounced, immediately annoyed, "What's it say, Hannibal?"

"She lives pretty close." Face huffed, answering for the Colonel, "We'll meet you there." He then grabbed Murdock, heading resignedly out the door.

"Okay, BA." Hannibal finally looked up, "Shut that thing off for good."

BA did so gladly, ruining the system so that they couldn't be traced, "Where's she live?"

"Just about four blocks from here." Hannibal answered as he closed the folder, and watched with a slight upturn to his lips as BA finished methodically destroying the rest of the systems. BA finally turned, his hands clenching,

"All righ'. Le's go make 'em pay."

* * *

Frankie was tired. Sleep, however, wasn't an option. Oozy and Nasally came in periodically to ask him where the team was, and they did it often enough that the had never really had the chance to drift off. Since he was sure he probably had a concussion, he had to wonder if it was a good thing.

On the plus side, they'd only taken the knife to him one more time since last time. So now he had a cut ear, hand and knee. And he'd really liked those pants ...

The blood made his clothes stick to him much like the blindfold had, and he dreaded when they'd have to be removed. The blood from his left knee had also soaked into his sock and shoe. He hadn't had the time to wash it off, even though they'd let him use the bathroom several times (thankfully). They only ever let him take so long.

The first time they'd finally let him into the bathroom, he'd only been able to stare at his reflection. Boy, did he look awful. He'd used the water to wash off some of his neck, but really, it only smeared it around a little, and he'd ended up looking worse than before. He had a huge gash in his forehead, and the blood had dried both above and underneath his eye, whereas the area that had been his blindfold was clean. He would have washed it off, but it was still ridiculously tender, and he really didn't want to wake the monster headache back up.

His hair had fallen almost completely free of the tie and the gel that had been holding it back, so he'd taken the rest of it out, letting it fall strange and free. That had been his second time in the bathroom. His first time had consisted of not only using it for emptying his bladder, but also his stomach, leaving him pale and shaking.

His wrists, by this time, were red and tender, swiftly on the way to becoming raw. He'd had to tear a piece of his sleeve off and wrap it around his hand haphazardly, doing the same with his pants and his knee, because––quite frankly––he was losing a lot of blood. His ear, on the other hand, he didn't touch, unable to get a good look at it in the dirty mirror and afraid he would make it start throbbing hard again.

In a way, the bathroom became his safe haven. He could have privacy, along with time to think. The best part about it, however, was the window. All the way up on the eight foot wall, there was a dirty, stained window. Mold was growing on it, and spiderwebs covered it, but truly, it was the most beautiful thing that he'd ever seen. It let in natural light that let him know he wasn't alone, there was a full moon shining down on him from out there, and it gave him hope.

It also gave him an idea.

Frankie knew that he couldn't spend forever waiting for his team. At this rate, he'd crack first, and he knew it. So did Oozy and Nasally. That was why he had to act fast. He tried not to ask for too many bathroom breaks, knowing that they'd get suspicious, but in his head, he began planning when he'd do it. He knew he'd have to do it when they least expected him to. He'd also need more time to do it, but the only time they gave him more time was when he needed it. The only time he needed it was when he'd been freshly hurt ...

Wonderful.

* * *

 **Wow. So. That turned out way more intense and important than I had planned ... in a good way! It's not like I'm making this up as I go or- or anything! *looks guiltily to the ground* Okay fine. So I'm improvising. So what?!**

 **Remember, improv comes from the word improve. :)**

 **Thanks for reading and stuff, I'll get another one up soon, and hopefully we'll finally get some action!**


	5. Chapter 4

**Hey hey! Guess who's back! ... Don't give me that look ..., I feel guilty enough already. I honestly have absolutely no good excuse for my huge delay ... I'm just lazy … and I get distracted easily? … I know.**

 **Bad excuse.**

 **Anyway, I'm back to write more for you guys, and for Frankie, as, just a short while ago (i.e. who knows when?), I was asked to continue (Just goes to show how much I depend on those darn reviews …). Naturally, I felt obligated to agree. I am a sucker for fans, and that's the truth. So again, #givefrankieachance, and I hope you enjoy.**

 **Also, since I'm not entirely certain whether or not I've done this before ...**

 **DISCLAIMER: I own nothing! (And I won't tell you what I do own, cuz who cares? I'll happily donate any and all of my OC's to the fandom. The only question is, ... will the fandom want them?)**

* * *

BA drove with the lights off, pulling up quietly to the small house in question. Neither he nor Hannibal said a word as they both got out, met immediately by Murdock and Face, the latter still sufficiently wet. "Well Hannibal, if you have a plan I'd sure like to hear it, since it's past midnight, so knocking on the door is out of the question." Apparently, the Lieutenant's bad mood hadn't abated since they'd last seen him.

"Face, I think we should try before we rule it out, huh?" Hannibal grinned at him, patting his shoulder as he headed towards the house. "You and BA stay out here and keep watch though, since neither of you are in a very friendly mood right now."

"And who's fault is that?!" Face shouted indignantly as Hannibal strolled away with Murdock in tow. The pilot looked back and gave BA and Face a goofy grin with two thumbs up,

"Don't worry 'bout me Face, I'll be all right!"

"Man's still crazy." BA commented sullenly.

"Who cares if he's crazy? At least he's dry." Face remarked with a twisted expression.

"Rather be wet any day than crazy."

"Hnn- not right now." Face shivered violently and BA looked at him sidelong, shaking his head and muttering something else about 'spreadin' crazy'.

The con-man ignored him. BA could understand why, too. Hannibal had sent him off with Murdock, who had gone and drenched the vain man. BA knew that Face hated getting drenched.

… still. It was a little funny.

They waited in the cold for what must have been at least five minutes. The light of the streetlamp nearby made certain that BA saw each chill that ran through his companion as they wondered how long Hannibal and Murdock would take. They'd gone around to the back of the house, and now BA saw the lights flick on inside.

Interesting.

A moment later, the door opened and Hannibal waved to them. "Come on in, boys!"

"What'd he do now?" BA wondered quietly as he walked towards the open door, a trembling Face trailing just behind him, muttering much more obscene things under his own breath.

The change that came over the con-man's face when they were met with a girl at the door was instantaneous, however, and BA would never stop wondering why Face couldn't conjure up that smile when there wasn't a girl around. "Ah, You must be Ms. Fleming."

"Yes." The young woman's face was pinched with nerves, and she glanced out with trepidation. "Come in."

"Yeah, Faceman!" Murdock called loudly from behind Hannibal, who was grinning at them from behind the young lady. "Come in, before it starts raining!"

BA knew it wasn't going to rain, and so did Face, but the latter cast a glance skyward as he hurried in anyway, accepting a blanket from Shaaron with a smile that melted most female hearts. She seemed immune however, as she closed the door swiftly and latched the lock almost immediately. "Please, uh, ... have a seat." She preceded them into a cozy little living room, and sat down next to Murdock on the small loveseat, earning the pilot a swift glare from Face as he sat next to Hannibal across from her. BA chose to stand.

"What's goin' on?" He asked it gruffly, and his glare was immediately attracted by Hannibal's answer.

"Now, BA, you need to calm down. Shaaron here has some information for us."

"I- ..." The girl bit her lip nervously and Face smiled softly, his chattering teeth much less prominent now as he spoke, assuaging her fears.

"Don't worry, Shaaron, we're here to help."

"I know." Ms. Fleming bit out bravely. "You're the A-Team. But- ... but that's- that's the problem!" Her voice had risen by the end of her declaration, and they all shared a look as she continued, shaking and pale. "They told me to- to tell you where they were, and I _know_ it's a trap, just like in the movies, but they're going to _kill_ him and it's my fault, because I didn't warn him, even though I _knew_ what they were going to do and I didn't do _anything_ because I- I was so s- _scared_!"

"Ms. Fleming." Hannibal spoke kindly, even as she hiccuped and began to sob. "Don't worry about it being a trap. You were very brave to tell us that, and we aren't going to let him die." BA nodded once, and saw Face blanch while Murdock echoed the nod. Frankie had to be alive, and BA refused to believe otherwise.

"They said if I- I t- told anybody that they'd-" She paused to take a shuddering breath before continuing. "They'd kill me, and kill him a- anyway! And h- he didn't even do anything t- to them!"

" _We_ gonna do somethin' to _them_." BA ground out.

"Yeah, sister!" Murdock had a gleam in his eye as he patted her shoulder comfortingly. "You jus' tell us where those ugly mudsuckers are, an' we'll take care of 'em, don't you worry about it!"

"But they're w- watching me!" She wailed. "They know you're coming and they're gonna kill you!"

Slight panic flooded BA, and Face must have felt similarly, since he spoke up immediately. "Ah- Hannibal, she has a point. If they're watching, then they'll know-"

"Face-" Hannibal cut the con-man off with a glance, then looked to Murdock who held up a handful of listening devices with a grin that Hannibal's face copied and amplified. "They won't know _everything_."

"A- are those-?" Shaaron's already pale face promptly lost the rest of its color.

"Yeahp." Hannibal grinned even bigger, and BA felt that a laugh was coming. "But Murdock left the phone tap on, and I'd like you to make a call for us, if you wouldn't mind."

"A- a call?" The young ladie's puffy eyes widened, and Hannibal's self-assured chuckle filled the room and their confidence. "To wh- who?"

* * *

Face breathed silently through his mouth. They couldn't afford to mess this up. Hannibal and Murdock were gone, making the last defense between the poor, terrified Shaaron Fleming and her stalkers BA and Face himself. His eyes flicked through the darkness towards the open doorway to the living room, and he hoped that this wouldn't be too hard. Getting soaked was bad enough, he didn't want to be punched on top of it.

Face had taken the back door around the corner, pretending that it wasn't because he hated fighting and the fact that he knew the Sergeant would fare better. BA played along, luckily, so Face didn't have to kiss his manly exterior goodbye in front of the girl, who had picked up the phone with a trembling hand.

Face listened with bated breath as she dialed, and counted with her.

 _911._

There was a moment of silence and then she spoke shakily. "T-this is Shaaron Fleming, and I live on Hardy Drive a-and there are men outside w- who want t-to kill me, and th- they're watching m- me. P- please hurry, they told me n- not to call-"

The door busted open just then slamming to the floor, and Shaaron dropped the phone with a shriek and a clatter as a pair of heavy footfalls clomped in. "Hey girlie." The voice was that of a frequent smoker, and not just of tobacco. "You jus' made a _big_ mistake. You shoulda listened to the boss when he said not to call anyone. We woulda left you alone then."

Face peeked around the corner then, and watched as a shorter man strode in to stand with his lean friend. "Yeah, that was pretty dumb." He fingered his gun with a predatory grin that Face could only barely make out in the dark.

"Hypocrite." Face muttered, then stared mournfully at his own weapon, which was an expensive looking vase. Hannibal had told them to avoid guns while Shaaron was there, not wanting to expose her to crossfire, but now that Face had seen the man's weapon, he was feeling a little (dare he even think it) out-gunned.

BA obviously didn't share his reservations as the moment the gunman took a step forward, there was a thump and he crashed to the floor, out cold. The other man whirled on the intimidating sergeant with a shout of surprise, then pulled out his own weapon. "You're gone! We saw you leave!"

Face turned the corner and hurled the vase at the man, before he could shoot. He remembered only after he'd let go that BA was just behind the goon.

"Look again, sucker." BA spoke clearly, and luckily, Face's aim was true, as the man went down a second late with a shout and pieces of shattered vase.

Corresponding shouts outside indicated that the rest of the gang had heard the commotion and come to the conclusion that their friends had failed. Face ran into the room and grabbed Shaaron's hand, pulling her back towards the kitchen as BA picked up the broken front door and hurled it at the men outside with a feral growl.

They were stopped short when the back door slammed open, and Shaaron screamed as another man tackled Face into the wall.

The next few moments were a flurry of punches and kicks that ended when the shy Ms. Fleming smashed a lamp into the head of his assailant. She then helped Face to his feet, groaning. He could already feel his eye swelling.

He heard a roar from the living room, and felt bad for whoever BA was whaling on before coming Face to face with his next opponent.

As his other eye was punched even harder than the first, he thought of Hannibal and Murdock and sincerely hoped that they fared better than he currently was.

* * *

"Hannibal, do you think Faceman and BA can really take on 20 men?" Murdock's tone wasn't worried, but curious as he spoke from behind the wheel of the van. The fight with BA had been cut short by the Colonel ordering the sergeant to hand over the keys, and both of them knew there would be a reckoning for that later.

"Well, if they're the same guys who grabbed Frank, I think we should be more worried about them." Hannibal's voice held a touch of humor, and then he pointed. "I think that's it."

"It's got a big ..." Murdock squinted into the dark, never having turned on the lights, "18 on the front Hannibal, an' that's the number she gave us."

"Nice." Hannibal opened his door before Murdock even put the vehicle in park, hopping out and waiting for the pilot to join him moments later.

"So, do we just walk in?"

"As loudly as possible." Hannibal nodded and Murdock grinned.

"Consider it done!"

* * *

Frankie had done it.

He'd gone kamikaze and made Oozy mad, and they'd reopened his ear-wound in retaliation, earning him that extra bathroom time.

He was leaning over the sink and watching the blood drip off his jaw. He could finally put his plan into action now, though his headache was more of a dissuading force than he'd expected.

"C'mon man," he muttered to his reflection, "if Face can do this stuff, so can you."

Predictably, his reflection merely blanched at the pain that moving his mouth had given his ear. He heard the rumble of a vehicle outside, and vaguely wondered what time it was.

This thought spurred him towards the window, and he looked up at it. He wasn't short, but was he tall enough to reach it?

There was a knock at the door, and Nasally's voice came through. "Five more minutes!"

"It's now or never, Santana." He growled to himself, then got up on the toilet, determined to do this right the first time.

After building up his courage—which took far too long—he leapt. His fingers gripped the edge of the open window, and he heard a loud snap, landing badly on the ground with a window in his hands. Well that plan had failed. He could feel his thumb and his knee start to bleed again, but ignored it as there was a pounding at the door. "What's going on in there?!"

Thinking fast, Frankie moaned. "Just kill me already, man." Since it would be better for the man to think he'd slipped in his own blood (which was becoming more and more likely).

The doorknob was being fiddled with, and Nasally called from the other side. "Open this door!"

Thats when Franklin Santana had a stroke of dangerous inspiration.

Frankie unlocked it, then hefted the foot long broken window in his hands, prepping for his next move. It was risky, but he was desperate. As soon as Nasally opened the door, he took the man out with one fell swoop, knocking the gun out of his hands effectively, left standing and breathing hard with satisfaction filling his stomach.

After only a moment of thought, he picked up the gun, and tucked it into his pants (yes, he made sure the safety was on first! You don't hang out with the A-Team without learning a few things!) before turning back to the broken window.

There was no way he wasn't going to run into someboday if he just used the door like his hand and knee sorely wanted him to ... So after a moment of indecision, he stood on the toilet once more, then leapt again, this time grabbing the metal edge where the window had torn free.

There were a few moments when he was sure he was going to fall, fail, or die, even. But he finally managed to pull himself up, his muscles protesting greatly at the exertion that they weren't ready for.

Scraping his way out through the small hole onto the pavement was painful, but worth it once he found himself panting on his back in the fresh air.

He'd made it.

* * *

 **Wow, wow, wow. I typed this on my iPad, and wow. I finished. These chapters are short, and I'm sorry for that, but after typing a chapter of In The Zone? This was a piece of cake (Sorta)!**

 **Again, I'm sorry for the long wait, but I WILL finish this. I will never leave a story hanging.**

 **Also, I'm leaving on May 2nd for a year and a half long trip (I know, I know! You've already pretty much waited a year for this) and I will try to finish it before then, but I'm not promising anything. If I don't get it done, then it will be on hiatus while I'm on my trip, since there will be no posting opportunities.**

 **Thank you again, for waiting for this chapter, and for sticking with this story despite Frankie being a main contender. I really do love him, and I hope that after this, you can at least TOLERATE him. ;)**

 **So, thanks again!**

 **C y'all**

 **-Al**


	6. Chapter 5

**I guess I didn't realize just how close I was to the end of this story until I went and wrote another chapter of it the other day ... so I suppose it would be remiss of me not to continue, huh?**

 **DISCLAIMER: I own jack (and no, that's not a dude).**

* * *

Murdock shouted into the dark warehouse as soon as he and Hannibal stepped through the side door, avoiding the giant garage door opening for the trucks that had originally used the place. "Helloooooooooooooo-" He swiftly changed tack halfway through the word, turning it into the first song that popped into his head. "Dolly, oh hellooooo, Dolly! …" He paused and listened to the dark silence, then tried again in a stage whisper. "Anybody home?"

There were shuffles in the darkness around them, and Murdock knew that Hannibal had heard them just as well as he had. They were surrounded, and these guys had undoubtably prepared for them.

"We got your message, slime-balls." Hannibal's cigar had been all smoked out before they'd even left Shaaron's house earlier, so now his words were clear and unhindered. "Ya'mind comin' out from under the blankets so I can see your ugly faces?"

The lights flicked on immediately after that, revealing that their ears hadn't deceived them. They were indeed surrounded on all sides, and Murdock was surprised to find that he recognized almost everyone who had a gun trained on he and his colonel. "Hey, I know you Dollies!" He found his mouth talking without his brain, and the various guns shifted to point at him.

"None of you move." One of the men spat, and Murdock identified him as a smuggler who had threatened an old ship owner in San Francisco at least two years ago. The man's son and daughter––twins––had come to the A-Team and they'd put the man away a week later.

"Well, Colonel." Murdock commented in a quiet aside. "Looks like you were right. We know every single one of these ugly mudsuckers, an' I think they know us back."

* * *

"You look like crap, suckah." BA spoke gruffly when the lights were turned on, revealing his disheveled teammate at the nearby switch, Shaaron just behind him, shaking a little after the ordeal.

They'd won the fight, leaving a heap of men and bits of broken everything everywhere. For a couple of crazy moments, BA thought that a few of the men on the floor looked familiar, but he soon shrugged it off.

"Thanks." The lieutenant spoke sarcastically, and crossed the room to BA, who noted the rumpled, damp suit, the bloody nose and the two swiftly blackening eyes (BA was sure the other guys looked worse if they'd dared to hit the con-man in his _face_ ). Oh yeah, Face was in a bad mood. BA himself personally felt much better after having torn into the suckers who were responsible for Frankie's disappearance (and the resulting milk shortage which he was still mad about).

"My house …" Shaaron was obviously in shock, speaking before Face could lay into BA. Immediately, the former changed tack.

"Shaaron, you gave your location to the police, so they should be here soon, okay?"

"What about …" She pointed to the men on the floor amongst the broken bits of porcelain.

"Ah- we'll take care of them, okay Shaaron?" Face walked over to her, putting his hand on her shoulder. "You were very brave today, thank you for helping us."

She nodded absently, her eyes still on the glass-covered floor. Face turned to look at BA, who looked out the window, then gave a nod to the lieutenant. Face took her by the hand, leading her to the couch and helping her sit down. "Shaaron, we have to leave now. The police will be here soon, and they'll help you, but you have to tell them about these men."

BA kept his eyes on the street outside, listening for the incoming police, but he heard her come out of it a little to ask, "What about you?"

"We gonna go get the rest-a those suckahs."

"Yeah, don't worry about us." Face shook glass off of a quilt, unfolding it to wrap it around the shaking girl. "We'll make sure these guys never bother you again."

"O-okay." She nodded finally, and Face stood away from the couch just as BA turned his attention back to the window, having caught flashing lights in the corner of his vision.

"Time to leave, Face." There were several police cars pulling up in front of the house, and Face blanched when he saw them, making his black eyes even starker against his pale skin.

"Right. I've got the keys, we parked out back anyway." The con-man agreed, proffering the keychain. "Let's head out." He turned to Shaaron once more. "Thank you for everything, Shaaron. We'll make sure nothing happens to you because of it."

BA merely nodded with a grunt, following the lieutenant out the still intact back door and silently speculating on whether or not Hannibal's plan would work. Sometimes he wondered if Murdock wasn't the crazy one on the team, Hannibal being the one to make him ponder that, and after the latest plan he found himself questioning their leader's sanity once again.

Face handed him the keys and they both got into the car, then BA pulled out quietly with the lights off. As soon as they were clear of the area, he stepped on it, knowing that the Colonel would need them sooner rather than later, despite how confident he'd sounded when he'd laid out the insanely simple (simply insane?) plan.

"Agh." Face mumbled from the passenger seat, using the passing streetlights to look at his reflection in a pocket-mirror and dab at his bloody nose with a handkerchief that only managed to spread the blood around. "This is not how I wanted to spend today."

BA didn't respond, knowing that Face wasn't looking for conversation, rather filling the empty silence that left too much room for dark thoughts. Face fell silent again though, as though pondering his next question before asking it. "Do you think this car can survive it?"

"It had better, or Santana's never gettin' it back, man." BA answered it honestly, and Face nodded with a huff of agreement.

* * *

Frankie didn't know how long he'd just been lying there, staring at the sky, but he loved every moment of it. The stars had never looked so beautiful to him in all his life, and he felt depressed that the sky was beginning to lighten in the East. He also felt more than a little remorse about the fact that he'd have to move again.

When he finally did move, he felt almost ready to cry. He was so tired, and he just wanted to sleep. The concrete ground had been the most wonderful thing he'd ever experienced in his whole life, and that included pretending to make a plane take off (that had been admittedly fun), and blowing things up.

Frankie knew he had to get out of this scrapyard while he still could though, and as he stood painfully, he tried to decide between going out the front or the back. They hadn't discovered his disappearance yet (which was surprising, and he wondered what was keeping them, not that he didn't appreciate whatever it was) so the back way was completely plausible, and he began sneaking towards it, keeping to the shadows as much as possible, despite the fact that he was leaving drops of blood every few paces and breathing really loudly. He couldn't help it though, he was in a lot of pain, and it felt like everything was throbbing.

It didn't help at all when there were honking horns, shouts and squealing tires from behind him, and he knew he'd been found out. He began to limp/run, holding onto the hope that he could get away from his pursuers. About six steps later, he knew that there was no way he'd be able to do it.

There was no escape, since climbing the chain-link fence was way out of his ability at that point, plus the fact that he had no desire to do that to himself. So he just continued forward, soldiering on. Really, what else could he do, unless-

Frankie froze when he saw the dumpster nearby.

He had an idea.

* * *

Hannibal had to admit that he was worried. Especially when they were taken into a large empty back room of the warehouse, and he spotted the ropes hanging on the far wall. "Colonel! Blood!" Murdock nodded with his chin, even though neither of them had been tied like they'd expected to be. Then again, they did have at least 15 guns trained on them by men who'd wanted to kill them for years.

"So where's our friend?" Hannibal tried to keep his voice even, betraying nothing of the anger he felt as he congratulated himself on bringing Murdock instead of BA.

"Your friend?" A man stepped out, and Hannibal immediately realized that he was the leader. Of course he was. A mob boss from Las Vegas with a voice like melted honey, they'd put him away for life, so he could have only been helped out. "He told us that he didn't know you."

"It's true." Murdock said. "He doesn't know us, but we know him." The pilot leaned forward to confide. "We're his guardian devils. Cept for BA. He's the angel."

"Then you've done a poor job." Antonio Ricci smirked, stepping purposefully over a small pool of blood.

"Well, no one's perfect." Hannibal admitted, boiling inside and easily deciding that this man deserved no second chances. He swiftly broke out of that train of thought however, knowing that for his plan to work, he and Murdock needed to really get to work. He moved forward to Ricci, leaving his disarming smile on his face. "Say, don't I know you from somewhere?" He didn't give the man a chance to answer as he turned to Murdock. "Doesn't he look familiar?"

Murdock did his part masterfully as usual. "Say, he _does_ look familiar! I think he's-" Murdock suddenly gasped. "I know him colonel! Get away from 'im! Quick! He's Hades! He's Hades!"

"Hades!" Hannibal took another step, ignoring the man's gun, which was pointing straight at his head. "Naw, I think you got the wrong guy, Murdock. This isn't Hades. This is- ah. Antonio Ricci, I remember you."

"I remember you as well." The man assured. "And that is why I will shoot you if you take another step."

"He's Hades! No, he's Pluto in another form, and I ain't talkin' about Mickey's dog!" Murdock recoiled, running across the room with a scream. "He's gonna kill us all, I jus' know it!"

"Murdock." Hannibal turned with exasperation. "I just said his name, he's-" Murdock ran in circles, the guns following him as the group of men around began to stifle chuckles. Hannibal sighed and turned to Ricci. "He sometimes gets this way."

"I remember, of course. Your crazy friend?" Ricci seemed as amused as the rest of the room. "Speaking of your friends, where are the other two?"

"They gone, baby! They gone up an' away an' there's nothin' in the whole wide world that can stop BA when he spreads his wings an' flies!" The pilot stopped running, panting out of breath. "But he hates flyin' and the whole world thinks it's a shame, cuz he's got the prettiest wings of all the angels."

"You. Tell me." Antonio pushed his gun into Hannibal's stomach, and the colonel grinned.

"Well, they're just a little late, that's all."

"I know that you dealt with my men who were watching the girl." Ricci scowled. "But they were merely pawns, and they all wanted their revenge on you. The men here are equally loyal. You will tell me where your friends are. You are not getting out of here alive either way."

"You'd be a bad salesman, Ricci." Hannibal advised. "Your pitch is terrible. If I'm gonna die anyway, I've got nothing to lose, do I?"

"Only your devil horns." Murdock pitched in from his place at the other end of the room.

"And what a loss that would be." Ricci deadpanned while Hannibal shot a glance straight up to his hairline.

"They aren't showing, are they?"

Murdock was in position, and Frankie was out of the way. So far, everything was going according to plan. Then everything changed with Ricci's next words.

"You have your friend's life to lose." Hannibal's blood ran cold as Ricci continued. "Bring in the prisoner."

An illegal arms dealer that they'd gotten at least three years prior rushed into a side hall, and came back out almost immediately. "He's escaped!"

"What?!" Ricci stepped forward, allowing Hannibal to plaster himself against the wall behind the man, his breathing evening out as his body prepared for what was about to happen. "What about my uncle?!"

"He's been killed. Blow to the head." The man replied, and Ricci shouted, his face turning an angry red,

"We have to find him! He cannot escape and warn the rest of the A-Team!"

Hannibal congratulated Frankie in his mind, wanting to laugh at Ricci, but knowing better than to draw any attention to himself at the moment.

There was a sudden honking outside, and Murdock screamed bloody murder. "AWW, THEY'RE COMING TO TAKE ME AWAY!" He ran from the room, laughing maniacally, and everyone gave chase.

Hannibal followed the angry crowd of murderers into the first room, smiling as his plan came together. A few shots were fired, but no one was able to stop the pilot from gripping the chain that opened the huge door for trucks, and a car drove in just then, machine-gun fire spraying from it almost before Murdock dropped to the ground.

Hannibal, for his part, grabbed Ricci before he could get away and slammed him down on the ground with himself, twisting the man's gun into his own gloved hand before holding it against Ricci's back. "Don't move, or you can become then next casualty."

"We'll all be casualties, either way." Ricci responded breathily. "This place is set to blow at 8:00, and that's in ten minutes."

* * *

 **Well, I can say with a surety that this is awful, but I'm pushing to finish it. :/ Sorry for not giving this more time, but as it is DUN DUN DUN! Cliffhanger!**

 **And where is Frankie now?**

 **The next chapter should be the last, and then we'll all know. :) So lemme know what you think, and if you see any blatant mistakes, shoot me a message while you still can, since I'm still going to be leaving for that year and a half trip on May 2nd. … :( Everything will be on hiatus after that time, so that's why I'm rushing a little.**

 **Anyway, I hope that you're ready, cuz this story is almost over, as sad as this is, and I hope that you've learned to maybe appreciate Frankie a little more, or at least appreciate that the guys appreciate him, if that makes any sense at all.**

 **Thanks for all of the support. :)**

 **C y'all,**

 **-Al**


	7. Chapter 6

**THIS IS IT. THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER … unless you _beg_ for more. ;)**

 **But seriously. Do you know what a big deal this is to me? Like … I've never finished a fanfic that had _chapters_ before. Like, … what a huge deal!**

 **So, DISCLAIMER: I don't own the guys, and I'm not sure if I disclaimed that yet. So now I have, and I again beg YOU to rethink how you think about Frankie if you hate him. I love him, and if you were willing, you could see just how great he is. :)**

 **#GiveFrankieaChance**

 **Anyway, ONWARDS! TO THE FINAL INSTALLMENT! The moment you've all been waiting for! (thx for all the reviews, I love you guys, this is for you … and partly for me, and kinda for Frankie, but let's not let that ruin the moment.)**

* * *

Man, Frankie hated dumpsters. Since the day he'd been coerced into betraying and then joining the A-Team, he'd found himself waking up in two different dumpsters (when it happened wasn't important, but he was sick of it), and now here he was, climbing into one all on his own.

Well, it's not like he had a choice. Oozy would be mad when he found Frankie gone, and Nasally on the floor (Frankie did wonder if he'd hit the man harder than necessary, but not having had that sort of experience, he just refused to think about it), so he had to find a way to hide.

They would assume that he'd hidden, and so he'd shoved one of his shoes into the chain link fence, to make it look like it had gotten stuck there, and he threw the other one over, so it would look like he'd climbed away. They probably wouldn't fall for it, but it was literally all he could think of doing. He wasn't a green beret, for cryin' out loud! He didn't really know how to fight! He knew how to make bombs and cool movie effects, but how was that useful in a fistfight?

Speaking of fights, something was definitely happening outside. There was a lot of shouting, and there was definitely a fair amount of gunshots. He wondered if it was the rest of the guys, finally having found him, mounting a rescue … No. He didn't want to risk checking. They'd find him.

He sighed, shifting in the garbage before grunting in pain. "Now I need a whole new outfit." He commented irritatedly, since he was pretty sure he'd never even be wearing the socks again, even though one of them was perfectly fine (the other one was soaked through, and he'd thrown that shoe over the fence with relish). A small amount of light filtered in, showing just enough of what he was sitting on to make him gag, and he wondered how much the men at the warehouse had been eating in the past few weeks. ... He could certainly tell _what_ they'd been eating.

Frankie wasn't sure how long he'd just sat there in the stinky shadows, before he shifted again, and felt something hard jab into his hip. "What the-" He moved away from the thing, wondering why the stupid garbage couldn't have included an old mattress, or a worn out pillow. He was so tired.

And bored. The shouting and shooting outside had ended rather abruptly, and now there were no sounds around him. … Well, there were flies, but he was studiously attempting to ignore _those_ sounds, despite his burning desire to kill every single one of them.

His eyes flicked around, comfortable with the dark, and he spotted a dark box in the spot he'd moved from. It must have been what he'd shifted into earlier. He stared at it as he thought about the team, and just how useless he was to them. All he ever seemed to be able to do was get them into more trouble than they were already in, and it made him want to just give up and let himself be taken to the dump with the rest of the trash around him.

Frankie then pulled his thoughts deliberately out of that rut, deciding that he'd just have to try even harder, since Stockwell didn't really give him much choice when it came to leaving. At least his dad was set. Frankie couldn't imagine having to watch his own father be thrown onto the streets, especially after all of the hard work that the man had done to keep him in a home all of his childhood. In a way, Stockwell had saved him from having to worry about his old man anymore, but at what cost? The A-Team's safety and trust?

Hannibal seemed okay with him, but he wondered if it was just because he felt responsible somehow for Frankie being on the team … maybe. BA didn't seem to like him, … but again, did the burly sergeant really like anyone? Face was still a big question mark, and that left Frankie with only one friend. Murdock. The pilot hadn't trusted him at first, but Santana decided that if smearing mud on his face and becoming a––what was it––a Blackhawk Commando was what it required to gain the madman's friendship, it was worth it. … The man was still pretty loopy though, so whether or not he saw Frankie as anything more than a useful acquaintance was debatable, as was the question of whether or not he was useful at all ...

Frankie sighed, absently reaching for the box that he'd been staring at, then lifting it into his lap to open, for lack of anything better to do. He was surprised by it's weight and sturdiness, contrasting immediately with the cardboard boxes that shared the dumpster with them. He opened it slowly, and caught his breath.

It was a bomb.

* * *

As soon as Face got out of the car, he could see that Hannibal was fine, and Murdock limped over with a grin from his place near the entrance. "Faceman, you changed your eye color!"

Face was suddenly very glad that he'd been with BA instead of Murdock again. Hannibal was forcing a man (the only one left alive) to his feet, and the con-man's eyebrows went up. "Ricci?"

"I thought we put that suckah in jail." BA came up behind him, and Face nodded in agreement.

"Well, he got out, and he's the one who invited us." Hannibal replied, then was cut off before he could finish.

"Where's Frankie?!" BA asked instantly, stalking towards the mob boss, his eyebrows drawing together.

"Oh yeah, he murdered some guy an' ran off!" Murdock immediately began to walk towards the side hall, and Face assumed that it was where Frankie had "ran off" from.

"He wouldn't have made it very far." Ricci's laugh stopped the pilot in his tracks. "This is going to be everyone's grave before you find where he undoubtably hid himself."

"Eh- what's he talkin' about, Hannibal?" Face didn't like the man's confidence, despite the fact that he was definitely in a worse position.

"He put a bomb somewhere around here." Hannibal said. "We have roughly nine minutes before it goes off."

Face was very aware that he wasn't the only one when he spoke. "Damn." He didn't know if it was Murdock or BA that had joined him though.

"Okay, Hades!" Murdock limped forward with a tense stride, snatching a gun out of a dead hand to point at Ricci on his way. "I'm revolting, I don't wanna be a devil no more, an' I'm gonna send you straight home if you don't say where you put that boom-box!"

"I will say nothing." Ricci grinned. "You may kill me if you like, or you may save yourselves, but your comrade is doomed, just as he was from the beginning. It is not as though he was really a member of your team from the begin-"

"SHUT UP, SUCKAH." BA ended the man's diatribe with a forceful crack from his bejeweled fist.

"An' when an angel says ta shut up, he means it." Murdock spoke acidly.

"I-I will not tell you where the- … where the bomb is." Ricci took pleasure in BA's anger, while Hannibal's sharp look prevented the sergeant from decking him. "I had planned on … killing you all, but breaking you will be- … be far better a reward."

"Permission to send Hades home, colonel?" Murdock asked it innocently enough, but his eyes were on fire.

"Not if I send 'im there first!" BA growled, and Hannibal shook his head, pistol-whipping Ricci into unconsciousness before he replied.

"We gotta find Frank."

"Where'd they keep him?" Face was ready to start, wanting to hurry and get out of there, having already calculated that their nine minutes had turned into eight, not to mention the fact that Shaaron's information would eventually bring the law around.

"In the back room, but he escaped from somewhere in here!" Murdock could still run on his leg, so the blood running down it was likely only a flesh wound. The rest of them followed him into the side hall, and up ahead, they could see a pair of feet sticking out of what was obviously the bathroom.

"Looks like he really did kill Ricci Senior." Hannibal's voice held no remorse as they came upon the scene, finding the flabby man's body with a lot of blood pooling around the head.

"With a window." Face observed. "He must have climbed out." The con-man didn't like the bloody handprint on the wall, and the old dried blood drops in the sink and on the toilet-seat. A moment later, they were following Murdock again as the pilot sprinted up out of the garage, climbing the steep hill to the lightening day outside faster than the rest of them could follow.

Around the corner, they found the open window from the other side, and all of them pointedly _didn't_ comment on the amount of blood in the area. With Murdock still in the lead, they followed the trail of blood, and found that it ended at the fence, where a shoe was lodged between the chain-links, and another shoe was on it's side across from them. "We only have five minutes left." Face observed quietly, and BA growled immediately, making the con-man edge away.

"Dere ain't no way he crossed dis fence."

"Big Burly BA is right." Murdock agreed, and Face was about to voice his own affirmation of their words when he noticed that Hannibal wasn't with them.

"I think I found 'im, guys."

Face agreed as soon as he saw the very obvious handprint on the dumpster, and Murdock must have thought similarly, since he spoke, "Frankie's not very good at hide-an'-seek. We should teach 'im." Then the pilot grabbed the lid and opened it wide.

They all stared at what was inside.

"He's asleep." Murdock whispered it, and Face could hear the worry in his tone as he then leaned over, poking Frankie in the cheek before freezing. "And he's got the bomb."

"What?!" Face went to look, but Murdock beat him to it, lifting a black box out, and revealing a torn wire.

"He followed the Nighthawk Commando rule number 47: disarm all bombs that did not come from you."

"He disarmed it?!" BA took the bomb, incredulous.

"Frank _was_ trained in demolitions for special effects." Hannibal explained, then, "BA, help me get him out."

Face watched as they carefully lifted him out, and winced sympathetically when he really got a good look at Frankie for the first time.

"Permission to send Hades home?" Murdock asked again, his voice quivering.

"Firs' I gotta beat 'home' outta him." BA muttered, and Hannibal shook his head.

"I'll worry about that scuzzball. You guys get Frank outta here." The Colonel held up a hand against all of their protests. "That's an order."

Face exchanged a look with the others, then nodded. Murdock spoke out loud. "Oki-doki, Colonel. We'll get him outta here."

"Here's his keys, if his tires survived that firefight." Face held them out, and Hannibal took them with a nod, lighting up what the con-man identified as a victory cigar. "And the police will be here any minute, so hurry up your goodbyes."

"Okay, guys." Hannibal grinned around the cigar, looking more like himself than he had all night. "Let's go."

* * *

Frankie woke up slowly, and was pleasantly surprised to find that he wasn't in a dumpster. The less pleasant surprise was that he was in a hospital bed. "What the-" He muttered, thinking back to the bomb. He'd disarmed it, then he'd finally fallen asleep … or had he passed out. He still felt pretty tired, but he didn't hurt so much anymore.

He looked at his cleanly bandaged hand, and figured that the weight on both his knee and his head were other pristine bandages. … Someone must have found him. The rest of the guys? Was that too much to hope for?

Frank didn't know how long it had been since he woke up, but he was just dozing off again when a nurse walked in. She smiled pleasantly at him as she settled a tray down next to his bed. "How are you feeling, Mr. Santana? I'm your day nurse, Nora."

"Frankie, please, and I'm feeling much better." He grinned at her, and felt the bandage at his ear pull oddly when he did it. When was the last time he'd smiled?

"That's wonderful! I brought you your lunch, and there are some visitors outside!" She smiled brightly. "I'll show them in!"

It couldn't have been anyone else but the guys, and Frankie found his smile growing bigger. Maybe they had been the ones to find him, which was oddly relieving. "Okay."

"Try to eat as much as you can." Nora warned. "You need to get your strength back. You lost a lot of blood."

"And a nice outfit." He muttered after she closed the door, then felt his smile return when Murdock limped in. "Where were you guys?!"

"Buying milk." Face followed, and Frankie was hard pressed not to stare at the double black eyes on the lieutenant.

"We were chasing you down and sending Hades back home!" Murdock chipped in while BA just grunted.

"We found you in the dumpster this morning." Face explained, "We'd just barely learned about the bomb, and when we went looking for you, we didn't expect to find it too."

"Yeah, I guess they figured people would be less willing to look through trash." Frankie agreed amiably. He wasn't quite sure where he stood with them (if he could stand), but he became less sure when Hannibal walked in.

"How're ya feelin', Frank?"

"Like I lost my favorite shirt." Frankie replied. "The vest was pretty nice too, and those shoes were expensive."

"You talkin' crazy, man!" BA seemed incredulous. "You almost died!"

For a moment, no one spoke, waiting for his answer. "But I didn't, cuz you guys saved me." Frankie finally said, then continued in a rush before he lost his nerve. "An' I'm sorry that I got caught. It's my fault that you guys were up all night chasin' me … I mean, if I had known how to really fight those guys off, or if I had figured out how to escape sooner-"

"Frank." Hannibal stopped him with his own name, and it felt powerful coming out of the colonel's lips, demanding his immediate silence. "It wasn't your fault."

"Those mean, ugly mud suckers had it in for us for _ages_." Murdock leaned forward. "'Sides, you took one out, and you disarmed the bomb, following Nighthawk Commando rule number 23: Disarm any bomb that doesn't originate with oneself."

"I thought it was rule number 47." Face said after a moment of the ensuing silence.

"Are you a Nighthawk Commando, Faceman?" Murdock gave the con-man a distinctly snobby look. "'Cause if you _ain't_ then how could you know?"

"You said 47 earlier, foo'!" BA agreed with Face.

"But Murdock's the one who would know." Frankie said, and Face groaned.

"You're siding with him?!"

"Why would he side with you, Face? You broke his car." Hannibal stirred the pot, and Frankie barely even realized that he was one of the ingredients as he sat straight up with a shout,

"You what?!"

"Well, now we're even, and we did it to save you anyway!" Face parried, looking to BA for support. The sergeant shrugged and said,

"You da one who had his spare key, Face."

"I don't have a spare key." Frankie was so confused, but luckily Murdock was glad to explain.

"He borrows your car for dates, cuz you broke his, an' it's still in the shop."

"What the crap, man?"

"You did ruin mine, remember?"

"I told you how to fix it!"

"Jus' like you told me to cook my gold?!"

"You used the wrong-"

"I did try tannin' butter, and lemme tell you, it tasted like-"

"Like you know how to fix a car!"

"I _do_ know how to-"

"You gonna be the one who gets fixed-"

"But my jacket didn't like it either, he said it tasted like-"

"All you do is break-"

"At least I-"

Hannibal watched as the four of them continued talking over each other, and silently kept time, waiting for the nurse to come rushing in to stop the wave of activity. "I love it when a team comes together."

"Then as payment, you can get me a new shirt!"

* * *

 **Well. That's it. That ended far differently than I had planned, but I liked it.**

 **So. … It's over. … That's really final, and I suppose now I should ask you to review and tell me if this made you like Frankie better, or if you still hate him religiously, and why.**

 **Regardless of whether or not you hate him, I like him, and I think he adds a fun dynamic to the team that's all his own. Amy and Tawnia (izzat how you spell it? I never liked her so much) do the same, but I like Frankie's special something the most.**

 **His advice kills me every time I watch "Dishpan Man" and see him seem so knowledgable, only to discover that he doesn't know a thing. :) It's great. (The part where he drops the guy down the elevator shaft is the best, and he's like, "I told them how to fix this just last week", and you know that's why the elevator is still broken …**

 **Anyway. I hope that you enjoyed this story, because I did, and I'm glad I can finally say that it's complete. If you feel like you want me to add something, or that I portrayed any characters wrong, just lemme know.**

 **Until later,**

 **C y'all,**

 **-Al**


End file.
